


Weakness Is Our Strength

by inpurifyingflame



Series: In This Place [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Falling In Love, M/M, ShireAU, abdication, just saw botfa, more to come - Freeform, omg, repost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 21:29:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3090776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inpurifyingflame/pseuds/inpurifyingflame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Settling down into hobbit-paced life remains harder than Thorin would’ve liked. He gets on well enough at work as he has the past year and a half but decides to take a day off to become further accustomed to Bilbo’s way of life. Meanwhile Bofur is having the time of his life as a toymaker for the faunts and young ones of the Shire but is confused about what to do with the attention of Hobbiton lasses. REPOST.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weakness Is Our Strength

**A/N:** An actual domestic scene in the garden as Bilbo introduces Thorin to weeding, watering, pruning and harvesting, lovely discussion about Thorin’s family. Then its on to cooking a decent meal, Thorin impressing Bilbo until ... he doesn’t. Also gives insight to Bofur, Dwalin and Nori’s work and just something about dwarvish loving. Title from Paramore’s ‘Let The Flames Begin’.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything that I’m writing, nor do I wish to profit from it. It’s all just a bit of fun from a sleepy Australian girl. All mistakes are mine.

**Weakness Is Our Strength**

Thorin woke slowly that morning, not letting his eyes drift open as usual to catch the first rays of the sunrise dip into the room. He enjoyed the guest room, watching the sun spill across the foot of his bed in the morning and listening to the sounds of Bilbo bustle about in the master bedroom.

This particular morning however had Thorin lazing about across feather pillows and burrowing further under his quilt and sheets. His muscles hurt, in the way that made him pleased, from his hours labouring over anything from candle stick holders to farm tools and door hinges to water pumps. He enjoyed the simple work but decided it was his right to take a day off that wasn’t a weekend.

Thorin had a motive behind this unexpected decision. He wanted to watch Bilbo for a day, see what he did on a working day and of course help the smial owner out with his daily chores. So without further ado Thorin rolled over and pushed the covers off his warm body.

The weather was heating up far quicker than it did back east and he suspected it was due to him usually being underground when the seasons changed. Thorin dressed in his simplest clothes, pulled his boots over a pair of his thinner socks and set about washing his face and combing his hair, affectionately labelled ‘the nest’.

He wore the dark locks differently now. Instead of loose with dangling braids he tied it back, braids and all, into a pony’s tail. Thorin quickly knotted the strap of leather and glanced over his reflection in the small mirror over the wash basin. Deeming himself respectable Thorin made his way out through the west hall and into the dining room where Bilbo was busy eating his first breakfast.

“Good morning,” Bilbo greeted as he read through the morning post, “Going to be a warm day today.”

“It is,” Thorin agreed in his deep voice.

Bilbo paused, fork to his mouth, “You’re up late. Are you ill?”

“No, no I’m merely taking a day off.”

“Really?”

Thorin chuckled at Bilbo’s disbelief, “I thought I could be of assistance for your chores today.”

“Oh.”

“Of course I can quickly eat and go to open the workshop but the good lad Thom won’t be in today. Preparations for someone’s birthday he told me.”

“Ah yes,” Bilbo said with a dreamy smile, “That will be a nice celebration.”

Thorin ate his eggs, bacon and toast in silence, watching as Bilbo returned to his morning letters. Watching the hobbit had become a daily pastime for Thorin who assumed that Bilbo didn’t notice his curious and admiring stares.

Finally Bilbo lowered the letter in his hands and glanced up to meet Thorin’s eyes, “If you’re finished I’ll do the dishes and figure out what to make for dinner.”

Thorin pushed his chair back quickly, “No worries, I’ll do the dishes while you... relax or something.”

“I don’t usually relax until after supper,” Bilbo said but waved his hand to indicate the dishes, “By all means.”

Thorin collected the empty plates that had held their breakfast, stacking them high in his arms as he wobbled to the kitchen. Setting the water pot on a burner to heat dish water, Thorin scraped the crumbs into the waste barrel until it was near boiling. Thorin then soaped up the water, pumping a little cold to balance out the temperature and set about washing the china with an old tune issuing from his mouth.

Bilbo had stopped at the doorway between the dining room and the kitchen and watched the scene before him. Thorin caught his gaze as he turned to grab the egg frying pan and grinned before Bilbo flushed and wandered off muttering to himself.

Once the dishes were washed, dried and inspected by Bilbo they were stacked in the china cupboards ready for dinner. Lunch would usually be taken in each of their respective workplaces or Bilbo would find some time to spend luncheon with each of the dwarves.

This happened at least once a week but Thorin was feeling slightly selfish and wanted to take lunch with Bilbo alone in the hobbit hole. He found Bilbo hovering by the door, a gardening apron secured tightly around his waist which held a variety of tools. Dangling on his arm was a wicker basket.

“You might want to find some old clothes,” Bilbo said thoughtfully, looking Thorin up and down.

Thorin didn’t find anything wrong with his appearance. He had a respectable grey tunic hanging over a clean cream shirt with his everyday dark brown pants and sturdy boots to tie everything together.

“Only they might get dirty,” Bilbo amended at Thorin’s confused expression.

“A bit of dirt won’t harm me Master Baggins,” Thorin said, drawing himself up as if he was above such things as dirt.

Bilbo laughed, “If you say so. Come, it’s a fine morning to get a little soil between your toes.”

Thorin followed Bilbo outside, listening to him chatter mindlessly about the right time to prune the few roses in the garden or getting Hamfast to cut some of the climbers that had gotten too far from Bilbo’s skill.

“Perhaps we could start with weeding the flowerbeds,” Bilbo said thoughtfully, “And then we’ll move on to the vegetable garden.”

Without further ado Bilbo crouched down, reached out a hand to seize a yellow flower.

“Pretty,” Thorin said gruffly and Bilbo waggled a finger.

“Not pretty. This dandelion is a weed and will damage a garden in a heartbeat,” Bilbo said and put the flower in his basket, “However I can make a nice jelly with these.”

“With weeds?”

“Dandelion jelly is lovely,” Bilbo looked amused, “You can usually find a different recipe in each family. I have two, from both sides of my family but I’ve worked out a nice combination that tastes divine.”

Thorin made a face but decided to trust Bilbo’s knowledge and skill because _he_ hadn’t a clue about gardening and harvesting, “So I’m to pull up the flowering weeds?”

“You don’t have to do...”

“No, no,” Thorin said quickly and fell ungracefully to the grass, “I said I wanted to help and so I shall.”

Thorin set to work pulling up the yellow dandelions, trying to avoid pulling the steams up as well until Bilbo noticed he had half a basket full of yellow flowers and no greens.

“Thorin,” He said patiently and Thorin looked up, “Try and pull the stems up too, the greens can be used for meals.”

Thorin’s expression must have given him away as Bilbo added, “My meals because dwarves obviously don’t eat any type of vegetable.”

Thorin chuckled but made a note to start eating whatever green matter Bilbo spooned onto his plate of a night. The basket of dandelions was nearly full when coupled with Bilbo’s own addition of what he called purslane which was for soup or sandwiches. The sun was nearly at the midpoint in the blue sky when Bilbo called for elevenses. A quick look at the clock as they went inside indicated exactly eleven o’clock and Thorin had to admire a hobbit’s body clock.

They ate their scones with raspberry jam, and in Bilbo’s case a cup of tea, outside on the front bench. Bilbo had watched Thorin scrub his hands meticulously before he allowed the dwarf to touch the carefully made raisin scones. He had taken the plates and his tea cup inside before returning and taking Thorin around the back.

“If I’m to make dandelion jelly I’ll need lemons,” Bilbo informed him, “Pick the yellow lemons, not the green. I’ll have to get Hamfast to cut it back halfway before the next season.”

Thorin started his work, noting another basket had been put within reach and he quickly filled it working alongside a handy Bilbo.

“The afternoon post should be here soon,” Bilbo spoke suddenly, startling Thorin out of his reverie and he realised that he’d been watching Bilbo with a lemon in his hands, “Have you heard from your family lately?”

“Not two weeks ago,” Thorin replied, placing a large lemon into the basket, “Fili tells me of the responsibility and complains it is encroaching on his leisure time with the ladies of the kingdom but Balin reports he’s doing quite well.”

“And of Kili?”

Thorin smirked, “Kili is trouble as always but he knows what he has to do. He just tries to do it in the most difficult way possible.”

“I assume he finds those meetings, those that you told me about, a bore.”

“Well his brother can’t be everywhere,” Thorin sighed as he sat on the top step of his small ladder, “Being king is hard business... but it’s nice to be where everyone needs you.”

“You miss it,” Bilbo observed and climbed down off his ladder to stand next to a slumped Thorin.

“Yes,” Thorin replied simply, “I miss the halls of my fathers, the familiar stone; the ringing sounds from the mines. The endless meetings could send the best dwarf to sleep but they were necessary and what was necessary was important to my people.”

Thorin’s breath left him as Bilbo wrapped his two hands around his larger one, “I’m glad you’re here Thorin.”

Thorin felt like his head was spinning and realised he was holding his breath. He let out the air under the guise of a sigh and awkwardly patted Bilbo’s hands with his own, “Thank you.”

Bilbo frowned for a moment before smiling, “We best get this fruit inside so I can begin cooking. It’s a lot to ask but could you help me with dinner tonight? Only I want to get this jelly infused and in sealed jars before I eat later. Lunch can be something simple, a sandwich.”

Thorin, not a dwarf of many words, replied, “I will help.”

 

* * *

 

The door banged open later that night and Thorin jumped where he stood trying to keep the green beans from boiling over.

“Dinner ready?”

Nori had come straight into the kitchen after his dramatic entrance through the front door. Another set of boots sounded louder as they marched to the kitchen and Dwalin’s gruff accent reached his ears.

“What are we having?”

“Keep your noses out of the kitchen while I cook,” Thorin admonished his company and Dwalin and Nori exchanged amused glances.

“Thorin I hate to break it to you but you can’t cook.”

Nori let out a funny little laugh at Dwalin’s words. Thorin frowned, checking the strips of chicken were frying happily, “Bilbo’s been checking over it when he comes back from the cellar every now and then. Go and bathe or something.”

“We don’t smell,” Nori tried to argue back but Dwalin just nudged him as Bilbo returned from his work.

“Thorin, the carrots!” Bilbo cried and hurried over to take them off the heat, “Did you not cut them up?”

Thorin felt a flush creep up on his cheeks and turned away from the roaring laughter at the kitchen’s entrance.

Bilbo looked over at the pair of laughing dwarves, “Away with you. I’d like to see you cook a lass a decent meal without me watching over you. Get your boots off, wash up and come back in a half hour.”

When Dwalin and Nori had left, Bilbo placed a hand on Thorin’s arm, “Come now, it’s not so bad. I’m going to empty this water and let the carrots cool. I’ve got more in the pantry we can cut up and put to boil.”

“Sorry,” Thorin mumbled, looking away from Bilbo quite humiliated.

“Oh stop that,” Bilbo said with a soft tap of his hand on Thorin’s bare arm, “The dinner is not spoiled. You’re doing an excellent job with the chicken for instance.”

“I can’t cook.”

“You can cook just fine,” Bilbo said gently, “The carrots will go in a carrot cake tomorrow and what I don’t use can be fertiliser. I’m going to suggest having fun with that chicken by the way. Put some spice on it while I fetch new vegetables.”

When Bilbo returned there was a nice aroma coming from the frying pan and the chicken was a nice crispy brown, covered in spices. Thorin seemed in much happier spirits as he nurtured his green beans and Bilbo found the chopping block to cut his carrots into smaller lengths. Together they set about keeping the rest of the food hot while the carrots cooked through.

“That smells so good,” Bofur’s voice sounded and while he looked worn out, a smile was spread across his face.

“How was your day?” Bilbo questioned politely and turned away from the bubbling potatoes.

“Oh excellent, the little hobbits are fascinated with the new toys I’ve set out,” Bofur’s grin stretched impossibly wide, “Lovely little things.”

“That’s nice to hear Bofur.”

“But,” Bofur’s eyebrows narrowed a little and his smile disappeared, “There’s a few lasses who come to the stall and I know they haven’t got little ones.”

Bilbo laughed and directed a wooden spoon into Thorin’s hand, “Oh Bofur, you’re good with the faunts. That’s attractive for the ladies.”

Bofur’s face burnt red and he scratched the back of his neck, “But I’m a dwarf and they’re hobbits.”

Thorin choked up and started coughing, turning away from the pans he was managing to cough

“What difference does that make?” Bilbo frowned, “Your race isn’t that much taller than hobbits if that’s what is worrying.”

“But... I’m a dwarf,” Bofur said, exasperated, “It just doesn’t work. Does it?”

“You can’t help who you love,” Bilbo said airily, “You like the children don’t you?”

“Well, yes. They’re gorgeous creatures.”

“And hobbits aren’t unattractive?”

“’Course not,” Bofur mumbled at the same time Thorin said, “No.”

Bilbo glanced in his direction and Thorin wisely remained silent, busying himself with a pot.

“If you find the one you know you can love then what does it matter if you’re a hobbit or dwarf?”

Bofur just shook his head, thanked Bilbo and went on his way to the washroom.

“Dwarves love passionately and are very possessive,” Thorin explained to Bilbo, “It’s in our makeup to find the one we’re destined to be with forever.”

“So Bofur’s ...”

“One.”

“Bofur’s One could still be in Erebor?”

“Or Ered Luin, or the Iron Hills or anywhere in Middle Earth,” Thorin said and his expression turned sour, “Or dead.”

“What happens then?”

“When dwarves don’t find their One we feel incomplete but it’s a feeling that can be lived with for sure. Finding your One and not being able to have them or losing them is the same feeling but more powerful.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve lived with it.”

If Bilbo acknowledged the past tense of Thorin’s words he didn’t show it and instead fell silent as he pressed a knife through a carrot and deemed it cooked. Dwalin and Nori returned as Bilbo served up the five plates and they each carried them to the table thoughtfully set by Bofur after he’d washed up.

“How goes the instruments?” Thorin asked Dwalin who was piling extra potatoes onto his plate and pushing his vegetables to the edges.

“Trade is booming,” Dwalin replied around a mouthful of chicken, “I have orders for flutes to be sent to Ered Luin and a passing Elf wants a harp.”

“I thought you didn’t work for elves?” Nori inquired.

“They might be untrustworthy forest dwellers but I get paid in gold and their gold is as good as any.”

Thorin gave a short, low growl that Bilbo ignored, “I’ve always envied people who could play instruments. We hobbits enjoy a little music.”

“I’ll teach you,” Thorin said simply and ignored the hard stares from each of the dwarves.

“I doubt I could learn at my age,” Bilbo said, “And Nori, how was your day? I hope you’re staying out of trouble after that incident with the Sackville-Bagginses.”

“I hardly knew that they would take my word seriously when I said I could pilfer some of your crockery,” Nori defended himself, “What confounding relatives you have.”

“Downright dry,” Bofur piped up.

“On the matter of work however,” Nori set about chewing on a carrot under Thorin’s watchful gaze, “I am an informant to the mayor. My work is secret and not to be told to civilians.”

“And potentially illegal,” Dwalin mumbled under his breath while Bilbo fell into laughter at the table.

 

* * *

 

“What are you going to do about Master Baggins?” Bofur questioned as Nori and Bilbo washed up and Dwalin pulled out food to prepare late supper, “He’s your One.”

“Aye but I’ve lived a long time without him knowing and it won’t kill me to give time for him to make up his own mind,” Thorin said quickly as Bilbo reappeared.

“Seeing as it’s a nice evening perhaps we could all have a pipe outside,” Bilbo suggested and Thorin straightened up.

“I’ll fetch mine from the box,” He said and gave a warning glance to Bofur before he disappeared down the hall.

“What was that about?” Thorin heard Bilbo ask.

“Ah just a confused and stubborn king,” Bofur said amicably, “The worst kind.”

Thorin let a rare grin grow on his face and hurried off to fetch his pipe.


End file.
